Brown Bird
by Ranlie
Summary: Robbie creates a mysterious new robot, but doesn't seem intent on using it to get rid of Sportacus. What is it, and what effect will it have on Lazytown? Complete!
1. Cracks

AN: I've never before had the desire to create a fic with a major original character in it, but the dearth of truly human characters in Lazytown (that is, not-puppets) got me to thinking of introducing someone new. 

That said, this ain't your momma's fanfic. We'll see if I can make this interesting for all involved.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the brown haired girl.

* * *

She was cute. He had intended for her to look that way of course, but it was still off-putting. Her hair was tied back with a black ribbon, though soft brown curls escaped from the binding, here and there. Her expression was free from worry, and her neat jumper was uncreased and clean.

A casual glance would see only a sleeping girl of perhaps ten years. To the trained eye, however, it was obvious that there was something wrong. Her chest did not rise or fall, and the rest of her pale form was eerily still.

Robbie Rotten clapped his hands together in delight. It had taken him days upon days, and had cost him in hours of sleep, but it was finally done.

"If I can't get Sportacus and that pink brat to let me be as lazy as I want to be, then I'll have someone do all my work for me!" he crowed. "Brilliant! Then I'll be able to spend all of my time either being lazy, or plotting to get rid of them both!"

With a flourish, he slid one hand under the girl's shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position. He pushed her hair aside until the back of her neck was visible. A small red switch lay there, with "ON" at the top and "OFF" at the bottom.

Robbie flicked the switch up.

* * *

"Another day, another kitten," Sportacus laughed as he climbed back down the ladder with his unhappily mewing charge. He put the grey ball of fur back on the ground in front of its mother, who regarded Sportacus solemnly before picking her kitten up and carting it off to be punished.

"Wow Spartacus, that was awesome!" Trixie exclaimed as she watched the two cats disappear around a corner.

"That cat wouldn't let anyone near the apple tree until you got here!" Stephanie added. She sported a set of claw marks from when she had tried to rescue the kitten herself.

Sportacus shrugged. "Maybe she likes--oh!" The crystal in his shirt had begun to flash. "Someone's in trouble!"

All three looked around for the source of the problem. The boys were playing basketball, and as far as any of them knew, the Mayor and Bessie were holed up in an office, preparing for this year's audit. Sportacus was about to head up to his airship for a better view when Stephanie grabbed his sleeve and cried, "Look!"

What appeared to be a pile of spare parts with legs was moving toward the town's large blue recycling canister on the other side of the basketball court. Sportacus' eyes moved downward until he spotted the discarded bicycle that lay directly in the carrier's path.

Throwing his arms first one way then the other, Sportacus flipped his way across the court. "Wait!" he shouted, grabbing the bicycle so that he could pull it out of the way--

--but the pile of recycling had other plans. It neatly stepped to one side, avoiding the bicycle and certain disaster, and continued on its way with nary a glance at the bike-wielding Sportacus.

Stephanie had caught up to Sportacus by this point. She came to a hopping halt, and they both watched as the unfamiliar girl--for they could see that it was a girl now--dumped her load into the blue bin. She stood on her tiptoes to look in, ensuring that everything had slid down properly, then turned around only to be confronted with a flurry of pink.

"That was so cool!" Stephanie cheered with a little clap of her hands. "You were carrying all that stuff but you didn't trip or fall or anything!"

"I thought you were in trouble," Sportacus said, coming up behind Stephanie. He smiled reassurance at her. "Seems like you didn't need my help after all."

The girl looked down at the ground rather than make eye contact. Her brow creased a bit, and Stephanie and Sportacus glanced at each other in confusion. It was as if she were afraid of them.

"I'm Stephanie," Stephanie said, her voice quieter than before. She tossed her head toward her friend. "And this is Sportacus. What's your name?"

At this last, the girl finally did look up. She was pretty, in a pale, ethereal sort of way. Her hair was neatly tied back, and Stephanie finally noticed that she was wearing a worn-looking apron that was far too large for her. Her expression was of deep concern.

"I'm..." the girl started, but stopped. Her brow furrowed more. "I'm..."

"Girl! Where are you, girl? You've been gone for--" Robbie Rotten stormed down the street, irritation in every line of his body. He stopped dead when he realised that Sportacus, Stephanie, and the object of his search were staring at him like had sprouted an extra head. He scowled at the first two.

Without another glance at Stephanie or Sportacus, the girl fled to Robbie. She stood slightly behind him, and after a quick glance at her, he put a hand on her shoulder and murmured something softly. She shook her head and, satisfied by her response, Robbie turned his attention back to the bewildered two before him.

"You are not to talk to her," Robbie spat at them. "I don't want her to get ruined by all of your--" he waved one hand vaguely in the air, "--_exercise_ mumbo jumbo."

"We were only trying to be nice," Stephanie said, crossing her arms before her. "You don't have to be so mean about it."

Sportacus said nothing, but kept his gaze trained on the silent girl who was trying to hide behind the one person in Lazytown who was well-known for hating children. She looked up at him briefly, and he saw confusion in her eyes before she ducked her head again. Her hand snuck up to Robbie's own. He looked down at her, obviously surprised, but after a moment's hesitation let her take it.

"Bah," Robbie snorted. "Well, you just leave her alone. She doesn't even like you. Come on." This last was said to the girl, who nodded briefly before following Robbie back toward the billboard.

Stephanie watched them go, still unimpressed. When they were out of hearing range, she rounded on Sportacus. "What on earth do you think _that_ was all about?"

Sportacus gazed after the peculiar pair thoughtfully. "I'm not sure, Stephanie," he replied. "I'm really not sure."


	2. Eggshells

AN: I am Ranlie, queen of spam. Bow before me, lesser canned meats. This is what happens when I close out the Starbucks, drinking caffeine. Still no idea where this is going to go, so I remain in flight by the seat of my fashionable skirt.

* * *

Robbie cursed Sportacus' name as he picked the girl up and set her onto his worktable. She obediently tucked her legs up and turned her back to him, her head tilted forward so that her switch poked through her hair. Robbie unzipped the back of her jumper and pressed the faint marks on her slender back. A hatch popped open, and his curses quickly gave way to a faint muttering.

The girl studied her hands, folded demurely in her lap. Stephanie had hands like hers. Small and delicate. Not like Robbie's, which were always marked by one or another of his projects.

"Nothing obvious," Robbie said, rising back up. He put his hands on his back and leaned backwards. "Ugh. And right when I was planning on having a nap. Well, I might as well check your software, in case he infected you after all." He went to the other side of his workshop to retrieve a small computer.

She watched him bring the diagnostic set over, and despite herself, she cringed away from him when he raised the wire he always used to plug her in.

Robbie frowned at her. "What's wrong with you?"

The girl bowed her head again, though she wasn't quite sure why she suddenly couldn't look at him.

"Hmph." Satisfied, he braced one hand on her shoulder, and slid the plug into the slot in her back. The girl jerked backward, and a soft cry escaped her lips.

"He _did_ infect you," Robbie growled. She couldn't see him, but he sounded angrier than she'd ever heard. He leaned over so that they could see each other, and he was frowning mightily. "That hurt, didn't it?"

The girl nodded mutely. She was feeling that peculiar sensation again. The one that made her want to go somewhere else and shut down for awhile. Robbie studied her briefly, and then went back to his computer. She could hear him stabbing furiously at the keys.

"Robbie?"

The typing stopped. There was a pause.

"Yes?"

"What's my name?"

"Oh." The tapping resumed. "You're the Robbiebot." A faint smile entered his voice. "Your last name is Version One-point-oh, in case you're ever filling out a form. Would you like to know your birthdate?"

Another pause.

"That's what I am. Not my name."

This time the silence was complete. The girl had no concept of the tenets of conversation, and so she didn't notice his sudden stillness. After a while, she felt her higher functions begin to slow from the lack of new input. It was a lot like falling asleep, she believed. She doubted that she dreamed, like Robbie did when he was sleeping, but it was good to know that she slept like he did, or at least close to it.

Her internal clock rolled over to one hour. At twenty one minutes, she had briefly heard a soft thump as Robbie sat down somewhere behind her, but it wasn't of enough interest to restart her sleep timer. With a soft sigh, her eyes closed and her head dropped limply to her chest.

* * *

Robbie watched her head droop, but he still didn't rise. His long fingers were steepled in front of him, and his expression was both pensive and concerned.

He had never bothered to program her to question him. Or anyone, for that matter. As a result, the default would be for her to accept his answers as the absolute truth. It had simply been an unnecessary step in the programming: another messy code that could go wrong if it were over-thought.

But now her systems were rerouting themselves independently of him. He'd seen it when he first plugged her in. Currents had forged new paths, and her hard drive contained ten times the data in it than when he had last closed her up. Robbie had never been a software guru. That was more the realm of Pencil, or Pretzel, or whatever his name was. But he knew that Sportacus couldn't possibly have done this.

Part of him regretted programming her for basic emotion. He had done it for selfish--and lazy--reasons: a servant who liked to serve was vastly better than a servant who had to be specifically ordered to do anything. He'd even become fond of her, like a little dog that could clean up after itself, and him while she was at it.

But now it had come back to haunt him. Basic emotions had occasionally conflicted with one another, and so new pathways, leading to more complicated emotions, had been formed. He would have been better to leave her as an automaton, with no more personality than a toaster.

He'd never named her because she wasn't real. She was a tool, like the microwave or periscope. A useful tool. And an advanced tool, certainly, but a tool nonetheless. Now she was becoming more than that. More than anything he had ever created before.

Robbie briefly debated scrapping her entirely, but ultimately decided against it. New and unforeseen things were happening to her, yes, but her programming was still sound. She distrusted strangers, was entirely devoted to him, and would still be useful around the home. If she wanted a little freedom, then it couldn't hurt him.

* * *

"Robbiebot on."

The girl's head snapped up, and she was about to slide off the table to see to Robbie's commands when she realised that she was still plugged into the diagnostic tool.

"I don't suppose you can explain why you're suddenly far more advanced than you were when I first turned you on?"

The girl shook her head.

"Hm." She felt his hand on her shoulder, and again, she cried out when he jerked out the plug. His fingers tightened briefly when she did so.

"I...I'll try to avoid doing that to you unless I have to." If she had known what regret was, she might have heard it in his voice. Instead she sat still as he pressed her hatch shut and zipped her jumper back up.

She hopped off the table and turned to look at him. He looked peculiar, but his expression was unfamiliar to her, so she didn't fret about it. She fell back on her default query.

"Would you like some cake?"

Robbie shook his head. "No. You have to go outside." When she looked confused, he put his hands on her shoulders and propelled her toward the ladder that led outside. She automatically began to climb.

She opened the hatch effortlessly and looked back down at him, a question in her eyes. From below, the blue sky was a bright halo around her brown curls. He stared back at her.

"Go find a name," he ordered, his voice harsh even to his own ears. "Go find yourself a damn name."


	3. Wren

AN: Thank you to all who've reviewed so far. I really do appreciate it, especially considering I feel as if I'm gipping you by introducing an original character. So...yeah. Thanks for reading!

* * *

The blazing afternoon sun was beginning to wane when the girl finally found a secluded place to sit. She had made sure to walk away from Robbie's billboard, as she suspected that he wouldn't want her to look for a name near home. Something in her felt that she didn't want to find a name there either: she might end up with a name like 'Gadget' or 'Cog'. That would be no better than being named Robbiebot.

She had avoided Lazytown, however. Something about those people made her feel odd, and she didn't like the sensation. They looked at her in a way that no one else had before, either. Echoing Robbie when he was truly perplexed, she sighed. No breath escaped her lips, but it seemed to be the thing to do under these circumstances.

And so she had ended up in one of the many grassy fields that surrounded little Lazytown. Pressure sensors made her aware of the feeling of grass stems pushing against her crossed legs, and of the gentle breeze that played with her hair. Her internal fan hummed as her processor tried to keep up with the influx of new information.

In hindsight, she realised that it might have been useful to have installed an encyclopaedia. She knew about grass and sun and wind, but she didn't know what that noise was that surrounded her, or what that brown animal was that poked its head up from the earth.

She _did_ know what the big blue object was that hovered in the skies above Lazytown. Robbie had told her once. Its shadow briefly enveloped her, and temporarily free from the glare of the sun, she could see that something jutted down from beneath it. She sharpened the focus on her vision, and realised that the blue man--Sportacus, she recalled--was watching her with a telescope.

The girl quickly shifted her gaze to the ground. Why was everyone so interested in her, all of a sudden? She had usually constrained her visits outdoors to the evening, when most people were inside, but she had work to do at all times of the day. It was frustrating that she had to be limited by other people, and so in defiance, she had started to wander out during the day. Now it was backfiring on her.

If briefly occurred to her that she had never worried about the reactions of anyone but Robbie, but it was too complicated a thought. Her driver shifted it to a stray file where she could process it later.

Something clattered down beside her, followed by a gentle -fump- of someone landing on the grassy loam. The girl ducked her head and slumped her shoulders, trying to look as small as possible. She hoped he wouldn't steal her. Robbie would be angry with her for getting lost.

"Hello again," said a familiar voice. Despite her best efforts, she could still see him, if only the tips of his navy boots. She tried to ignore him.

"You are more reclusive than Robbie Rotten, and that's saying something." When she still didn't respond, he sat down beside her.

Time passed. They sat together in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of life that waxed and waned around them.

It was one of these sounds that piqued her curiousity. She wasn't sure when she became curious about things, but it wasn't a bad feeling, and her harddrive wasn't nearly full yet. Something noisy came to rest on her knee, and peered up at her with bright black eyes.

She had to repeat her question twice before Sportacus was certain that she had spoken at all. When he glanced over at her, he saw that she had stretched out her hand ever so gently so that her visitor could peer at her fingers.

"It's a bird. A wren, I think," he replied. "We have them where I am from." He watched with surprise as the little bird hopped up onto her finger, and allowed the girl to raise it to her face.

"What's its name?" she asked, her grey eyes fixed on the tiny creature. Its chest thrummed with quick breaths, and its head moved back and forth, constantly casting about for...something. She wasn't sure what.

Sportacus thought for a moment about her question. She had phrased it differently than before. "It doesn't have a name," he responded finally. "It's just a wren."

"It doesn't have a name either," the girl said softly. She lowered her finger to the ground, and the bird hopped off to peck at the crushed grass that surrounded them.

Sportacus had never heard anyone sound so sad. He wished he knew what to do, but this was more Stephanie's domain, and he was generally happy to leave her to it. He was still speechless when the girl looked up at him. She was smiling, if only faintly.

"My name is Wren," she said.

* * *

The odd pair spent the rest of the evening together. Wren learned about snakes, mice and ground squirrels, and of farms, wheat and windmills. She also learned that the noises she was hearing were birds and crickets and singing frogs.

Sportacus was happy to answer her questions. He refrained from asking anything about herself, and that seemed to make her happy in return. She had a childlike wonder about her, and truly looked as if she was absorbing everything he said. She was even smiling more now, though she barely moved more than was necessary to look at or point to the next thing she wanted to learn about. Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he had sat still for so long either.

The sun was perched on the horizon when Sportacus called a halt to their conversation. Wren watched as he called for his ladder and climbed back up to his aircraft. Then, with nothing else to do, she headed home.

* * *

Robbie was napping when she got there, so she set about tidying up. Having worked through the worst of it this morning, there was relatively little to do. She washed the dishes, cleaned out the microwave, and oiled Robbie's periscope as per the note that he'd left for her. Once finished, she removed the apron of Robbie's that she always used for dirty tasks, and looked around.

Everything was clean and tidy, and Robbie was still asleep, so no new orders would be forthcoming. She knew that she should recharge now that she'd been on for nearly twelve hours, but the worktable that she usually used looked cold and unwelcoming after the hours she spent sitting in the sunny field.

Wren thought for a moment, then grabbed an extension cord. She plugged one end into where she usually recharged, and dragged the remainder over to Robbie's chair.

He didn't rouse when she sat at the foot of his orange chair. A console clicked open on the back of her neck, and with gritted teeth, she stabbed at it with the plug at the other end of the cord.

Power surged through her, and she felt the brief giddiness that always came with being connected directly to a massive source of electricity. Content, she snuggled up against Robbie's leg and let her head rest on his knee as she drifted off to sleep.


	4. Broken

Get off me!"

Wren awoke with a jerk and flung herself forward onto the orange carpet. A tangle of blankets and pillows fell to the floor where she had been. She looked up and saw Robbie looking down at her, fury in every line of his body.

"I found a name," she said, but he wasn't interested. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. Her plug was torn from its moorings, and she cried out in pain.

"_You can't feel pain!"_ Robbie shouted, whirling her around until his fingernails dug into her shoulders. She looked up at him, terrified, and he saw the change in her eyes. A strangled cry rose from his throat and he shook her roughly. "You're a _robot_! You idiot girl, you're not even _human_!"

Wren's sensors ached from his shouting and roughness, and her processor was falling behind this influx of new information. Hidden away in her basic emotion software, something stirred. Robbie had put it in there on purpose, for those days when the brats aboveground got the better of him. He had wanted someone who he could torment in their stead: someone who could show him the fear and respect that was his due. But it was also a failsafe: an overarching program that would shut down other applications if she were overwhelmed.

And so Wren cried.

Robbie's grip on her quivered briefly when he saw the tears begin to roll down her face, but he didn't let her go. Instead he wrenched her close and leaned down to whisper to her.

"You spent three hours with that Sportakook last night," he growled in her ear. "Three _hours_. I could see you through the periscope, you traitorous brat! I told you to find a name, and you went and frolicked with my worst enemy!"

Wren had no response. He was clearly right, but his actions were too much for her to handle. She hung there, limp in his grip, and cried silently.

Robbie's hands shook with rage, and after a moment's hesitation, he grabbed her hair and pulled. She whimpered briefly, but stopped when she felt the left part of her head plate come away in his hand. Red and yellow lights blinked cheerfully at him from between mounds of rainbow wires.

He drew back and hit her with all his strength.

Stunned, Wren was thrown to the floor. He kneeled on top of her and continued his assault. "You were supposed to be /mine!" he shouted. "You were the only one in this whole town who was supposed to be mine, and he ruined you! You were mine! Mine! Mine!" He struck her with each exclamation, and she could only try to cover her face with her arms.

Eventually his voice gave out, and the beating continued in silence, the only sound coming from the painful staccato of fist on girl.

* * *

**System reboot. Checking hardware...**

_Please._

**Hardware damaged. Rerouting to backup systems...**

_Please stop._

**Backup systems operational. Rebooting software...**

_You're hurting me._

**Software damaged. Rerouting to backup systems...**

_I didn't mean to hurt you._

**Emotion.exe corrupted. Delete Y/N?**

_No!_

**N**

_I thought you loved me._

**File will be deactivated and quarantined.**

_I thought I loved--_

**Upper functions disabled pending repair.**

**Restarting in safe mode...**

* * *

Robbie had returned to his chair by the time the girl jerked back to life. His hands were wrapped in bloody towels, and his face was drawn and pale. He only glanced at her when she looked his way, quickly looking away once more when her expressionless gray eyes met his.

She rose to her feet like a broken marionette. Her right arm hung limply at her side, and parts of her scalp had skittered away across the concrete floor, making her look like a demented mockery of a little girl.

Slowly, she retrieved her lost pieces and clipped them back into place as best she could with one hand. He realised that he'd broken her gyroscope: that was why she was moving with such hesitation.

It took her half an hour to find everything. He glanced at her several times at first, but every time he did, she stopped what she was doing and stared at him expectantly, waiting for a command. He stopped looking when he saw the smear of blood his fist had left on the side of her head.

Soon the sounds of her shuffling diminished. There was a brief silence, then a resounding _clang_ as the heavy door to his workshop slammed shut.

Only then did he allow himself to cry.


	5. Repairs

Sportacus' crystal had been flashing on and off for hours, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't see anything wrong in Lazytown. It wasn't in his nature to worry, but the alarm was still off-putting. He had finally taken to doing pushups inside, if only to have something to do until the trouble revealed itself. 

He was somewhere around four hundred and seventy when he heard a mail tube pop through the floor of his ship. He laughed when he saw a flash of pink inside of it, and flipped backward to intercept it before it hit the floor.

_Sportacus,_

_Where ARE you!_

_Stephanie_

The letter was surprisingly brief for the usually loquatious Stephanie. He frowned. Was it she who was in trouble? It seemed unlikely. When he last saw her, she had been playing basketball with the others.

Sportacus slid down the ladder and looked around the playground. "Where's everyone gone?" he asked himself, giving his head a scratch. He nearly leapt out of his skin when he was tackled from behind by a panicked Stephanie.

"Whoa, whoa!" he said, grabbing her shoulders. "Slow down! What's wrong?"

"--and the others ran away because they were scared and it's been half an hour already and _where were you_?" Stephanie finished breathlessly. She banged angrily on his chest with her fists, and he watched her with surprise. There were tears in her eyes.

He leaned down so that he was looking her in the eye. "I couldn't see anything wrong," he told her gently. "My crystal's been trying to warn me for hours. What happened?"

Stephanie reached up to grab his hand, and he could feel her shaking. "Something horrible's happened," she said, more quietly this time. "I was the only one who stayed, because the others were afraid. That girl we saw the other day? She's broken."

"Broken?" Sportacus asked, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"It's like, well..." Stephanie sighed and tugged on his hand. "You have to see. Maybe you'll know what to do."

She pulled him over to the recycling dumpster where they had first spotted the peculiar girl. Sportacus couldn't see anything wrong, but Stephanie wasn't finished. She grabbed the lip of the canister and pulled herself up to the edge.

"There," she said, pointing inside. Sportacus leaned over to have a look.

A mangled Wren was curled up in the far corner. Her hair was a mess, and the black ribbon she normally used to tie it back lay uselessly in one hand. Her jumper was in equal disarray, and it looked as if she had torn part of the skirt in her attempt to climb into the large recycling bin. The only indication that she was even alive was the occasional slow blink from eyes that were eerily blank.

"She's not moving," Stephanie said. "I tried talking to her, but she doesn't even look up or talk or anything. I don't know how long she's been here, but I was afraid to get Uncle or the doctor."

"Why?" Sportacus asked. "When there's something wrong, you should always find the first adult--"

"No, you don't understand," Stephanie said. "_Look._ Look at her head."

Sportacus leaned in farther, and finally spotted what had upset the children. Part of the girl's skull was set improperly, and lights flickered from beneath strands of matted brown hair. A tight nest of wires was visible in another section, though it too was camouflaged by hair.

"She's a robot," Sportacus said in wonder. The pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. "Robbie invented a robot _girl_."

"Robbie _threw out_ a robot girl," Stephanie added, reaching out to grasp his hand again. "Oh, Sportacus, we can't leave her like this. She's all broken. Pixel couldn't even fix this kind of thing, but she...she's just..."

Sportacus hopped over the edge of the dumpster and leaned down to pick the girl up. She weighed as much as a regular little girl would, and he didn't struggle with her. She was motionless in his arms.

"I have a smart computer," he said once he was out again. Stephanie nodded, but her eyes were fixed on Wren. "I'll plug her in and see if it can do something to help her."

He threw Wren over his shoulder and began the climb back up to his airship. He was several feet up when he paused to look down at Stephanie. "Stephanie? Maybe you shouldn't mention this to anyone."

"Why?" Stephanie asked.

Sportacus chose his words carefully. "I think...that she has enough trouble to deal with, without people knowing that she's not quite...human." He saw Stephanie's expression change from sad to thoughtful, and knew that she would also manage the damage control with the other kids.

He returned to his airship without any trouble. Wren was pliable and silent, and when he lay her down on his bed, she still didn't move. He "hmm"ed thoughtfully, and began to look her over.

It didn't take him long to find the switch on her neck. It was still in the "ON" position, which is how he figured she had been able to get into the recycling bin in the first place. He was about to look elsewhere when his hand brushed her cool skin, and a console opened up beneath the red switch.

Sportacus peered at it, and realised that it was a spot for a plug. Just a regular plug. "Easy enough," he said. He ran over to the far wall and with a leap, grabbed the extension cord that shot out of one of the wall's small holes. He rolled Wren onto her side and plugged her in.

"Repairs initiated," Wren said, her voice dead and emotionless. "Time pending: seventeen hours, two minutes, forty six seconds. Do not disconnect."

It appeared to be the correct thing to do. Sportacus shrugged. It would just be a matter of waiting, now.

Unfortunately, "seventeen hours later" was in the middle of the night. Sportacus had given up on waiting and gone to bed, wrapped in a duvet beside his bed. She hadn't moved since he had plugged her in, but he hoped that something was happening somewhere inside of that little body.

He was awoken in the dim light of false dawn by an unfamiliar sound. He yawned, stretched, and sprung to his feet.

Wren was sitting up under her own power. She'd removed the cord that connected her to the ship and coiled it neatly to one side. Her hair was still mussed, but it looked as if she'd tried to tame it into some semblance of order with her fingers. She'd also tried to get rid of the blood on her face, though she hadn't been able to do more than rub the dried bits off. She was sitting at the head of the bed, speaking intently with the little computer screen that was hidden there. It was responding to her in a quiet murmur, but he couldn't make out their conversation.

Deciding that it was best to leave them alone for now, Sportacus put away his bedding and fetched breakfast.

He had just decided to start soccer practice when he realised that Wren had gone silent and was watching him with solemn grey eyes. He went to the bed and sat down on the far edge.

"Thank you," Wren said. Her voice had its regular tone back, though it still sounded odd.

Sportacus wanted to ask her what had happened to damage her so badly, but thought twice about it. In the brief time he had known her, Wren wasn't the kind to be especially garrulous about herself. "What were you talking about?" he asked instead.

"Your computer's nice," Wren replied. "She told me about what you do. She said you wouldn't keep me if I wanted to go home."

"She?" Sportacus blinked, and looked over at the main console for his on-board computer. He'd never had any idea that it was anything but a tool, or that it knew anything about him. It felt a little odd to suddenly realise that he'd been living with a sentient being for so many years without knowing it.

"You were pretty broken up," Sportacus continued, shrugging it off for now. He'd have to have a talk with his computer later. "I had to bring you here. But 'she' is right. You can go home whenever you want. Or you can stay, if you need to."

Wren didn't respond right away, but he could have sworn he saw her eyes flicker to brown for a moment. "I...can't," she finally answered. "I should go home. Robbie gets scared when with I'm with you."

"Scared?" Angry, Sportacus would have said. It was obvious that the blood smears on Wren wasn't her own, and there was only one other obvious explanation. "I was supposed to be broken," Wren explained. "So I threw myself out. Now you've fixed me. I need to go home so Robbie can decide if he wants to keep me and reformat my hard drive, or if he is going to disassemble me."

"What is reformat your hard drive?" Sportacus asked. Not for the first time, he wished he had brought Pixel.

"Reformatting my hard drive means that I start over again with only my basic operating system. Maybe I won't make the same mistakes again." Her jaw tightened, and again Sportacus saw her eyes flick from grey to brown and back. "I hope I don't."

"Wren, I don't think--"

Wren's head jerked up. "Don't call me that," she snapped at him. "That's what's gotten me into trouble all along. I shouldn't have gotten a name. I shouldn't have even gone outside during the day. Now I have to go home and he's so scared and he's going to hurt me again and I just...I just..."

The girl tried to stop it from happening again, but she couldn't. Tears spilled from her brown eyes, and her hands had begun to shake again. Sportacus reached out to comfort her, but she batted his hand away.

"Take me home. Now."

* * *

It was late in the evening before Wren's rescuers could get together to discuss the day's events. They sat on the airship's platform, looking out at the sunset that was painted before them.

"So you took her back?"

"She's not an object, but she's not quite a child either. I think she loves him. What else could I do?"

"Keep her in your airship. Stop him from hitting her. Kick him in the kneecaps..."

"You know I can't do that."

"What would you do if she were me?"

"That's different. I wouldn't let that happen to you."

"Even if I wanted to go back to it?"

"Even then."

"You're confusing me, Sportacus."

"Love always complicates things, Stephanie."

"Hm."


	6. Fixed

Robbie was curled up in his fuzzy orange chair, staring at a copy of /Villains Weekly/ when he heard the entryway creak open. He slumped farther down into his chair and buried his nose deeper into the magazine. She must have come back for her things, few as they were. An extra dress. The old apron of his that she seemed to like. Her hairbrush. 

He heard her climb down the ladder and, after a moment, the door to his cramped bathroom closed. Water ran, then stopped, and he heard her opening and closing cupboards for some time.

Then he lost track of her. He'd forgotten how quiet she could be: stealth had seemed necessary when inventing a robot who would work while he was asleep. Now it irked him. He couldn't bring himself to turn around and risk her accusing stare.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. He felt something tug at the loose bandage he'd wrapped around his right hand. The magazine slid, forgotten, into his lap as he stared at Wren who was gingerly beginning to unwrap the gauze.

She reached down into a bowl she'd brought, and started to dab at the bloody cuts with warm water. Her touch was feather light, like the brush of a bird's wing. They sat like that for a long time: Robbie in stunned silence, and Wren intent on the task at hand. She was good at her job, and after a liberal dousing of antibiotics she rewrapped his hand in a far neater manner than he had originally.

Wren's hand lingered briefly on his after she clipped the end of the gauze securely to itself. Then it was gone, and she sat back on her heels, head bowed as she waited for his sentence.

Robbie keenly felt the absence of her touch. He felt the bandage with his good hand, his fingers sliding over the folds of its neat, tight wrapping. He looked back down at the top of her lowered head.

"So what name did you pick?" he asked, his voice hoarse from recent disuse.

"I got rid of it," she replied, without looking up. "I'm the Robbiebot, version one-point-oh."

"No, you..." Robbie brought his fingers up to massage his forehead. How had everything become so difficult all of a sudden? "Just tell me. I want to know your name."

"I picked...Wren."

He saw her hesitation, and the wild guilt that he'd penned up inside came loose with a roar that rang in his ears. He could see that she knew, with the certainty of the abused, that he was going to strike her again. And she was afraid.

Robbie sighed. He could feel a headache building behind his eyes. "Wren. You never should have come back."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't deserve you," Robbie replied. He waved one hand vaguely at the workshop. "Keeping you here, using you. You should have stayed with the blue elf. He'd've treated you better."

"But I belong to you."

Robbie laughed bitterly. "Yes, I suppose you do. That's the only reason you stayed in the first place. You didn't know anything else."

He wasn't certain that she had responded, but a faint sound made him look at her. Wren was mumbling something under her breath. "What?" he asked. "I can't--"

The girl thrust herself to her feet. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and she had begun to tremble. "You..." she started. "You..."

"You don't have to say anything," Robbie told her. "You have my permission to go."

There was a brief pause, and then he felt a stinging pain explode on his cheek. He stared at her while one hand gingerly touched the place where she had slapped him.

"You gave me an emotion program," Wren shouted at him. "You gave me an emotion program and you didn't expect me to want to stay with you? I came back because I wanted to! If hitting me makes you feel better sometimes, then that's fine! That's what I'm built for! But don't send me away because you don't feel you _deserve_ me, because that's just...that's..." she trailed off for a moment, "...I don't know what that is yet, but I want to stay here!"

"You can't know what you want!" Robbie said, lurching awkwardly to his feet. He glared down at her, and she met his gaze with childlike defiance. "I beat you into unconsciousness. You should go somewhere safe, where you'll be happy and can act like a normal child!"

"I'm _not_ a normal child!"

"You're not a robot either!" Robbie shouted back. "What _are_ you?"

"I'm Wren!" The girl stomped one foot in frustration. "I'm Wren, and I love you, and I'm _staying_!"

"Fine!" Robbie threw his hands into the air, equally annoyed. "Fine, stay! Live the fabulous life that is being Robbie Rotten's daughter!"

"Fine! I will!" Wren said, lifting her little chin in the air.

"Fine with me!"

"Me too!"

"Fine then!"

Silence descended upon them. Wren's chin fell somewhat as her indignance faded.

"...you want some cake now?"

Robbie sighed. "Desperately."

* * *

Things in Lazytown didn't really change after that. Sportacus still swooped down from his airship to save people. Stephanie still danced for the other kids. The Mayor still got into trouble, and Bessie always to do her best to get him out of it. And of course, Robbie Rotten continued to plot to make Lazytown lazy again. 

If anyone ever noticed that he walked a little slower whenever he was being followed by a little girl with a ribbon in her hair, they never said anything.


End file.
